


she's not alone

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers Infinity War
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Infinity War spoilers, major spoilers!!! so like read with caution, this movie...hurt me.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14487939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: But Wanda pulls back, playing with the ends of Natasha’s short hair, smiling weakly as blood from the gash on her forehead trickles down her neck.“You dyed your hair. It’s beautiful.”Natasha laughs, crushing their bodies into a hug again.-or the missing parts of wanda/nat in infinity war





	1. reality

**Author's Note:**

> yes hello marvel?? im suing yall for emotional damage because infinity war actually like, destroyed me as a human and im never going to be okay again. but the one thing you did right was the "shes not alone" scene with nat + wanda + okoye. ur on thin fucking ice. 
> 
> anyways enjoy!!! major spoilers of course like im not gonna remind u again dont blame me if u read this and get spoiled!!! im sorry!!! i hope you all enjoy!!!!!

-

 

 

They write to each other once a week, maybe even twice, and Scotland is cold and lonely without her.

But Wanda has Vision, she tries to tell herself that that’s all she needs, that she’s happy without Natasha and that where they are is okay. That she doesn’t need the Black Widow and that she’s _fine._

(She isn’t, she misses Natasha so much, sometimes she wonders if it’s become a part of her.)

 

 

-

 

 

 

When Steve, Natasha, and Sam save her from Thanos’s children, she feels Natasha’s arms around her for the first time in _years,_ and it feels like coming home.

She’s picked up from the ground, where she pants from exertion, and almost collapses into Natasha’s arms. She sees blonde hair as she buries her face into the older woman’s neck, and grabs to Natasha’s back as if it was her anchor, seeking comfort as her body almost melts. She’s so _tired,_ but Natasha gives her this strength that lets her hold on.

Wanda then feels Natasha hold her, just as tight, and she wonders if the other woman missed her as much as she did.

They pull back, and Natasha cradles her face, smiling lightly and resting her forehead against hers. “You did amazing.”

Wanda lets her eyes close as well, and she thinks she should say _I missed you_ or _Where have you been_ or _maybe I should have gotten into danger sooner to see you._ But Wanda pulls back, playing with the ends of Natasha’s short hair, smiling weakly as blood from the gash on her forehead trickles down her neck.

 “You dyed your hair. It’s beautiful.”

Natasha laughs, crushing their bodies into a hug again.

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

There’s a moment, a breathless second, where Natasha feels her world _stop._

That _thing,_ stands over Wanda; and it’s doesn’t even take a second for Natasha to move into action. Because Wanda’s _not_ alone, and she never will be, not as long as Natasha is fighting and breathing and standing.

And the feeling inside of her that springs to life, this protective fury for Wanda, burns at the belly of her stomach. And Natasha almost buckles from the power of it, so she focuses it all into the swing of the Wakandan weapons she bears, hearing the grunts of Okoye fighting just behind her.

When she looks back on it, she never knew she could keep up with a literal _alien_ who most likely could cut her in half with her horns, but Natasha likes to think her experience with ripping aliens to shreds comes in handy when suddenly, she’s on her back, gritting her teeth and pushing against the sword of the (woman? Alien? Hybrid?) who hovers over her.

When the child of Thanos grins, the fangs in her teeth ooze drool, and her horns almost glint in the light of the battle field. Natasha struggles again, pushing up with all her strength against the sword at her throat, grunting as her voice cracks slightly in her efforts.

(Is it poetic her last thought is of Wanda? Pleading for her to be okay?)

Natasha doesn’t know, she doesn’t seem to care. If she is to die, maybe it’s okay she’s dying for something worthwhile.

The woman above her smiles, a low laugh rumbling her chest. “Tsk tsk, who’s all alone now?”

Before either can blink, red energy swirls around the horned woman, flinging her almost upright into the air. Natasha watches with her mouth open slightly as she is ripped apart, almost from the inside out, as Wanda throws her body through the air, directly into the blades of their machine.  

And Wanda’s standing there, breathless and tired and almost _angry,_ the power in her body thrumming as her eyes glow that devastating red. Natasha stands up, holding her stomach in pain as Wanda lowers her hands, the energy dissipating from the air as she worriedly looks to Natasha, jogging over and resting her hand on her bicep.

 “Are you okay?”

It makes Natasha smile, standing up taller and wincing as her body protests. “Never been better killer. Are you?”  
  
Natasha frowns slightly, worry suddenly taking her over as she looks to her- to Wanda. She seems so exhausted, like she holds the weight of the world on her shoulders. But she smiles lightly, accent almost a calming thing to Natasha among the bloodshed.

 “I’m fine, all that matters is that you are.”

 “As much as I’m _loving_ this sweet reunion, alien at 3’oclock!?”

Okoye’s voice rings out, making Wanda instantly glow red as she stands protectively in front of Natasha; a sea of creatures almost close enough to swarm the crater they still stand in.

 “Oh no way in _hell_ are you protecting me. You have to find Vision, Wanda. _Now.”_

Wanda ready’s her hands, energy flickering around her as her eyes glow red, she tries to make her voice steady as she speaks. “ _No._ No, Natasha, I’m not leaving.”

  _I can’t. I can’t leave you again. I feel like it’ll kill me._

And suddenly, Natasha is kissing her, she’s kissing her and _kissing_ her and Wanda feels the earth below her shake. And when she pulls back, she’s doing that half smirk, the one Wanda fell for.

 “Go save the world killer.”

Wanda opens her mouth, eyes going back to their natural colour after the press of Natasha’s lips. 

 “I..”  
  
Natasha flicks out her weapons, walking backwards and standing back to back with Okoye.

 “ _Go_ Wanda _._ I’ll be here when you get back.”

When Wanda is screaming, breaking the infinity stone inside of Vision, her other hand holding Thanos back while the magic form her fingertips burns the air she breathes, she thinks of a life with Natasha. How as she cries, watching the life drain from Visions eyes, maybe another universe exists where they’re _happy._ Where Wanda can fall into sheets with Natasha, and Vision can _breathe_ a human life.

She never said “I love you” to Natasha before she left. She wonders if the Black Widow knows, knows that Wanda loves her with what feels like the entire universe.

(She is a breathing infinity stone, a walking weapon. She always loved how Natasha made her feel like she wasn’t, that she wasn’t something made to destroy. Like her hands could love and nurture and _heal.)_

Vision screams, making Wanda sob harder as the stone cracks in two. And Thanos smacks her body across the ground as yellow crystals burst into light, she tries to lean on her elbows, to fight _back,_ and Thanos grins and he takes Visions life _again_ by rewinding time and Wanda can’t feel anything anymore. She can’t breathe and it feels like she’s lost _everything._

She watches Natasha be held down by branches, suffocating her, and Wanda lays _burning._ Broken and weak and she tries to say her name, but nothing comes out.

She tries to crawl, to Natasha and Visions body, she feels electricity behind her; a hot heat that lights up her spine and makes her cry out as Thor strikes Thanos’s body.

And then, everything’s _white._

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Wanda!”

 “Nat she-“

 “ _No._ She has to be here, she has to. Wanda!”

Steve sits by Visions burnt body, he can still hear Bucky’s voice and it feels like the very foundations of his soul _crumble._  Okoye closes her eyes in sympathy as she watches Natasha call out for Wanda, voice breaking and tears at the corner of her eyes. She runs to the spot she saw the younger woman last, walking backwards and shaking her head as she frowns in confusion.

 “No no no. She can’t be- she can’t-she can’t just, _disappear._ “

Okoye speaks up, gritting her teeth as her own tears fall for T’Challa. “Natasha, she’s gone.”

Natasha falls to her knees, the dust of what was Wanda settling against her skin. “This doesn’t, this doesn’t make _sense._ Steve what- _”_

Steve closes his eyes, throat bobbing as tears track his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Natasha fists the grass beneath her, clenching her fingers as she shuts her eyes, willing the tears to stop as she rocks slightly. _She’s not dead, she’s not dead, she’s not dead._

Steve walks up behind Natasha, he lays his hand on her shoulder, kneeling next to her. But she shrugs him off, roughly, standing up and looking into his hurt eyes; not feeling a _thing._

 _“Don’t_ touch me.”

Natasha narrows her eyes, Steve had always wondered what seeing Natasha cry would look like, or _feel_ like. The infamous Black Widow, vulnerable. It’s…terrifying. A raw _anger_ settles into her eyes.

Their words end there, they stand in silence, Natasha sits with her arms on her knees and she feels the absence of Wanda so deeply it’s as if her chest _aches_ for release. Aches for Wanda to just appear and smile and say “Miss me?” as if she never left.

Hopelessness. Hopelessness and confusion and _grief_ hangs in the air, so much so Natasha chokes on the silence of it and her throat bobs with the effort of not breaking down, of not screaming and crying and releasing it into the world.

Some say the world will end in fire, in destruction and _screaming_ and death.

(Natasha wonders if the end of the world is supposed to be so silent.)

 

 -

 

 


	2. space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two own me! 
> 
> i hope you all enjoy this chap, im kinda making this a mini fic actually. and the idea im introducing is PURELY my own, ive never read the comics and as to where each character went when they disintegrated at the end of IW? i very much do NOT know, thats why im kinda making up my own idea. then making it gay. bc MCU lacks so so much in that department.... :( 
> 
> anyways, enjoy! and if you wanna share headcanons on this little au in the comment section i am more than happy to chat :)
> 
> malishka = baby/babygirl (i think, this is me putting trust in google again sjdsk)

-

 

 

She sees Wanda in her dreams so much Natasha starts to wonder if they’re _real._

She wakes with a start, flinging upright in bed with sweat beading across her forehead. Natasha’s breath labours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the end of her dream lingers at the edge of her vision. And she will sit in her bed, head in her hands with her elbows on her knees, squeeze her eyes shut at the echo of what she saw.

It’s Wanda, of course, like every other time, standing in the middle of a dark room. Or maybe a void. Or the edge of the universe. Natasha isn’t sure, all she’s sure of is that when Wanda lights her hands up trying to see in the dark with her magic, flicking her head back and forth like she’s lost, Natasha feels her chest crack in two.

 “N-Natasha? Where am I?” Wanda has tears at the corners of her eyes, because she’s alone and lost and everything’s so _dark._ “Why can’t I feel anything?”  
  
Her magic flares, red encompassing Natasha’s vision as Wanda tries to feel any life form around her, any type of living energy besides her own. And Natasha tries to croak out words; _anything_ to tell Wanda she’s not alone. That she’s _here_ for her, that she’s never leaving her ever again. She promises.

But nothing escapes her mouth, she watches Wanda fist her hair and shut her eyes; her magic pulsating outwards with a dull thrum as she cries. And Natasha, just at the end of her dream, manages to let out a small “Wanda-“ just before she wakes up. Tears meet her jawline as Wanda fades from her view.

And every time, Wanda looks up like she hears it, hope filling her eyes so desperately that it breaks the Black Widows heart in two once again.

Natasha closes her eyes, for once, feeling small in her bed. Feeling the absence of Wanda around her, so much that it makes Natasha wrap her arms around her knees and press her forehead to her wrist, _willing_ the tears to stop.

And it honestly feels like the universe could swallow her whole. 

It’s terrifying how much Natasha doesn’t care if it did.

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve has the same dreams, he says Bucky seems so _lost._ Like he’s being swallowed up by darkness.

Natasha and Steve talk about it a lot, and it’s so new that it catches Natasha off-guard that she is able to speak so freely with him. To bare what feels like her soul into the air between them as they sit together on the couch.

 “Are they alive? Is that actually them?”

Steve frowns, running his hand through his hair, coming down to scratch his beard. He looks so much _older,_ like what happened is ageing him by the minute. He answers Natasha’s question, voice low.

 “I don’t know, but it feels so _real._ Doesn’t it?”

Natasha runs her finger around the rim of her mug, knees curled up to her chest. She finally got to kiss Wanda in a dream she had last night, she held to the sides of her face and poured everything she wanted to say, but couldn’t, as Wanda gasped into her mouth.

It felt real. It felt so real that Natasha lets her fingers softly rest at her lips at the memory, eyes going glassy. The magic of Wanda, of her love, wrapping around her body and making her feel safe.

 " _Natasha, please don’t leave.”_

Natasha hopes the kiss made Wanda feel safe too.

 

 

-

 

 

 

The dreams seemed to be something only Steve and her share, but when Okoye comes into the War Room of the Palace, a look across her face, Natasha sits up in her chair. Her legs fall off the table from where they were perched, and Steve straightens as well. The holographic files and research Natasha and him were going over closing down.

Natasha speaks first, frowning in worry. “Everything okay?”

Okoye breathes deep, it’s rare to see her so vulnerable. So open and _bare._ Her hands are clasped behind her back, spine straight as she talks.

 “I’ve been having…dreams.” Natasha quirks an eyebrow, Okoye sighing as she continues at her prompted look, almost with an eyeroll. “I wouldn’t be sharing this if I didn’t think it was important. They seem too _real_ to be just dreams.”

Steve speaks up, folding his arms, his voice almost solemn. “Let me guess, he’s in some sort of darkness? T’Challa that is.” Steve pauses, a little awkwardly. “Uh, that is assuming you’re seeing him in these dreams.”

Okoye opts to sit in one of the chairs, hands clasped on the table top. She seems so put together, so in _charge_ and headstrong, but Natasha’s good at reading people. She knows this is hitting her just as hard as it’s hitting them.

 “Yes, I am, almost every night. And it feels as if he’s almost…” Okoye frowns, trying to find the word that fits it perfectly as she trails off. Natasha thinks of Wanda’s desperate gaze, like she’s trapped in a never-ending nightmare. And it’s like her heart _yearns_ to find her, to save her, so much so she feels like she’ll break from the strength of it.

 “Lost.”

Natasha’s raspy voice fills the air, making Steve and Okoye look to her. But she’s looking beyond them, closing her eyes to try and rid of the image of Wanda that she can’t seem to lose. “ _Lost_. They seem lost.”

 “Yeah,” Okoye clears her throat, nodding. “Exactly that.”

Natasha stands up, pushing the chair out and letting the sleeves of Wanda’s long shirt be fisted in between her fingers. She wears it a lot, because it smells like her and _feels_ like her and god, maybe it’s a little pathetic, but Steve looks to her sympathetically like he feels the same.

 “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me.”

Okoye nods, but Natasha doesn’t really see it. She heads straight for the training rooms, not even bothering to change, just stripping off _Wanda’s_ shirt so it doesn’t get sweaty and her smell doesn’t leave, strapping her hands as fast as she can.

She hits the punching bag almost as if it was responsible for Wanda’s absence, grunting and sweating and feeling her blonde hair stick to her neck. Her fists flurry, and she hits it and hits it and _hits it;_ thinking of Wanda and how she couldn’t save her, and how she feels like everyone she loves slips through her fingers and how Wanda was the _first_ person to feel solid, like she’d never leave.

Natasha keeps hitting, panting and grunting and she punches the bag until her fists feel like they’ll bleed, until it flies across the room off its hook as Natasha lands one last hit.

She drops to her knees, leaning forward until her forehead touches the floor, pressing her fists to the ground and screaming.

This is how the Black Widow mourns; alone, broken, as if she screamed loud enough, maybe Wanda could hear her voice.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Wanda always used to do this thing when Natasha visited her in Scotland. Very rarely, and never for longer than a day. But the moments were treasured as if they would never see the other again.

But Wanda would sit in their bed, knee high socks and one of Natasha’s oversized hoodies draping her figure. She would sit quietly, play with her magic around her fingers, watch it fall over her skin and crackle to life. Her eyes would glow that devastating red, but it was softer, calmer, almost tranquil.

Natasha would always be behind her hugging her, smiling into her neck and mumbling. Her hair is red and medium length here, before she felt like needing a change. “What are you doing _malishka?”_

Wanda seemed to melt at the pet-name and touch, closing her eyes and smiling, her accent thick. “Feeling you.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, arms around Wanda’s waist tightening as their bodies seemed to mould into the other. “Oh? Kinky, Maximoff. You know you can just ask.”  
  
Wanda rolled her eyes, magic ceasing as she turned her head to meet Natasha’s teasing gaze. “Not like that, I’m feeling your energy. You know, _you.”_

Natasha softened her gaze, kissing her softly and melting into her lips. Sometimes it scares her how easily she is stripped bare before Wanda.

 “Yeah? And what do I feel like?”

Wanda leant back against her, facing forward again and playing with her magic; sighing as she closes her eyes. Natasha feels her inside of her, but it’s not invasive, it’s warm and soft and everything’s _Wanda._

“Home. You feel like home.”

Natasha kisses her shoulder, presses her face into Wanda’s neck and breathes her in as her hands come and massage at the other woman’s navel, making her sigh and keen at the press of her fingers against her skin. This was the moment Natasha knew she loved her.

Her biggest regret is that she never told her. Never told Wanda just how _much._

But they kiss like they know, Wanda moans like she can feel Natasha’s love. Natasha gasps like she can taste it on her lips. Natasha falls asleep to that memory almost every night, hoping her mouth lets her speak the words to Wanda in her dreams. If she even gets to dream of her at all.

 

 

-

 

 

 

She does.

And this one is so clear Natasha is _sure_ it’s real.

Wanda sits in the blackness with her eyes closed, almost meditating. There’s no walls or corners or ceiling. It’s just, darkness; the absence of light. Natasha is able to speak, and _move,_ and she looks to her hands for the first time. She seems _real,_ she pinches herself, she doesn’t wake up.

Is she already awake?

 “Wanda?”

Her loves eyes snap open at the voice, mouth open in shock as her voice breaks in confusion. “Natasha?”

Natasha almost sobs, feeling Wanda run into her arms and clutch her body to hers, as if she’ll float away. She cups the back of Wanda’s head, fingers threading through her hair. And she feels the same, smells the same, sounds the same. She feels the younger woman’s hands clutch to the back of her shirt, and Natasha holds back just as tightly.

 “Is it really you?”  
  
Natasha presses her lips to Wanda’s forehead, closing her eyes. “It’s me _malishka.”_

Wanda pulls back, frowning slightly but not letting go of her hold on Natasha. She’s _never_ letting go. “How? Natasha, where am I? How are you here? I don’t _understand._ ”

Natasha opens her mouth, eyes softening at Wanda’s voice, but realises she doesn’t _know._ All she knows is this has to be real, it _has_ to. She cups Wanda’s face, her thumb lovingly wiping away the other girls’ drying tears. How could it not be real? She can feel Wanda, she’s right _here._

 “I don’t understand either. But I’ll find you, okay? I _promise.”_

Wanda frowns, feeling how Natasha clutches at her forearms for her not to slip away again. “Nat, what do you mean? You’re right here.”

Natasha closes her eyes, and when she opens them they’re glassy, tears that refuse to fall. “I’m not Wanda, or…or maybe I am, I don’t _know._ All I know is that you _have_ to be real, I can’t be dreaming this.”

Wanda feels Natasha start to slip away again, holding tighter to her arms, their bodies are almost becoming one with how tight Wanda holds her to her body. “No no no, don’t disappear again. Natasha?! _Natasha!”_

Suddenly, Natasha sits up in bed, panting and sweating and feeling like the life inside of her was drained. She can feel the indents of Wanda’s nails in her arms, and as she looks down, feeling soft tears meeting her jawline, the crescent marks are _raw._ Like Wanda just held her.

Natasha grabs to the spot, shutting her eyes and bringing her knees to her chest.

 _It was real._ Natasha thinks, starting to rock slightly. _Oh my fucking god, it was real._

(The whole night, she wills herself to sleep. To dream again and _see_ Wanda. She doesn’t, and she screams in frustration when her mind refuses to calm. And when the sun rises and Steve asks her how she slept she answers a curt “I didn’t.” watching him nod and take a sip of his coffee. She wonders if Steve’s dreams are as vivid as hers, as raw and palpable. Or maybe Wanda and her powers make it more connected. Natasha doesn’t know, but it feels like it.)

And Natasha trains and trains and _trains_ to distract herself, to make herself so tired her body collapses into sleep. She punches the new punching bag until her knuckles bleed and her lungs ache.

Sometimes she swears she feels Wanda, or hears her. She can’t explain it, but it feels like she’s calling out to her from some other plane of existence that Natasha can’t see. And it makes her so angry, so fucking _angry_ that she can’t reach it.

Okoye suggests one day, that it’s the void. That when Thanos used the gauntlet, he transported them to nothingness, creating a world where they never existed to begin with.

 “But we still remember them,” Natasha stresses, Wanda’s shirt she wears covering her frame. _Her. I still remember her._ “If he made them never exist, then our memories wouldn’t exist. I mean, god, I’m no physicist but-“

Okoye breathes deep, looking to Natasha and her folded arms as she paces. “Maybe it’s nothingness. Maybe they live in a permanent state of suspension in…time, or space or our minds. Something linked to the stones.”

Natasha scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Okoye raises her hands up, shrugging. “I suppose not. But I know you have had the thought.”  
  
It’s true, Natasha has thought of it, if it’s real and Wanda’s _there._ But it hurts more than she likes to admit, because that means she’s…alone. Stuck. _Lost._

Natasha narrows her eyes, and maybe she needs to cool it back a bit. “You don’t know what I think.”  
  
Okoye stands up, and Natasha will always secretly be in awe of how demanding and all-encompassing her prescience is. “Do you think I’m not mourning too, Black Widow? I don’t like to think of it just as much as you don’t, but it’s a very real possibility if what we are dreaming is real.”

Natasha sighs, closing her eyes as she holds her hands up. “Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry, don’t like, cast me out of your country or whatever.”  
  
The comment makes Okoye’s mouth twitch into a slight smile. “As appealing as that seems,” Her voice is slightly teasing, and Natasha laughs lightly. “I don’t have the power, unfortunately.”

Their conversation ends there, and Natasha retreats to her room to try and sleep. It comes easier than normal, and she has a thought that maybe it’s because Wanda knows she wants, no, _needs_ her. Needs to see her again and make sure she’s okay. Like their bodies are connected, mind and soul.

She likes that idea, that somehow, even apart, they are tied together by a string.

 

-

 

 


	3. time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for ur support and comments, they mean the world x hope you enjoy this chap!

 

-

 

Natasha almost gasps into this dream, feeling the nape of her neck be pulled into her subconscious.

It’s, for once, _bright._ The sun filters through autumn trees, and Natasha finds herself at the bottom of the steps of an old house. Wooden and solid and open; the house creaks slightly as it settles. And Natasha breathes in, eyebrows furrowed to her dream.

She’s on a farm, or maybe a property. The grass tickles her bare feet and she looks down, wiggling her toes and playing with the ends of Wanda’s long sleeve shirt she once again wears. She’s in nothing but shorts, what she fell asleep in, which is _different._ She’s usually wearing her mission gear in these dreams, or clothes that make her feel constricted and alert.

Yet here, she isn’t, and she narrows her eyes as she feels the sun fall over her skin, up her neck, listens to a wind chime dangling from the porch blow in the soft breeze. It’s all so calming, but almost seems too perfect to be an actual place.

She pinches herself. Doesn’t wake up. It feels real and the clouds above her are real and the wind tangling through her blonde hair is _real._ It can’t be anything but.

And that’s when Natasha notices a hammock softly swaying, sees a long lean leg pushing against the ground to move back and forth slowly. Her heart soars, like the leaves around her feet, and she darts to the stairs, climbing them and gripping the rail.

She hasn’t dreamt of her in weeks, Natasha feels her chest start to labour as she breathes out.

 “Wanda?”

The figure in the hammock sits up, and Wanda looks around quickly before her eyes settle on the other woman. She’s out of her seat in seconds, nearly tripping in her haste and almost falling out of the hammock. Natasha laughs and feels Wanda crash into her, burying her face into the other girl’s hair.

 “God, you’re gonna crush me baby.”

Wanda pulls back, hands holding Natasha on either side of her face. She doesn’t waste time, because neither know how much they have of it, and kisses Natasha as if she held the last breath of oxygen in the universe. And when she pulls back, her eyes are red with magic, as if her body can’t contain what she’s feeling.

 “You’re here,” Wanda looks down, pressing her body so it’s flush against Natasha’s, making her sigh. As if she’s almost checking to see if she’s real. “You’re really here. Why are you dressed like that?”

Natasha laughs at the abrupt change, tucking a stray piece of Wanda’s hair behind her ear. She’s missed her so _much_ , and she notices with a start how lonely Wanda must be. _Here_. Where ever they are.

 “That’s what you focus on?”

Wanda smiles, grabbing to Natasha’s hand in her hair and threading their fingers, wanting to be near as possible. “Sorry. I just, haven’t seen you like this in so long,” Wanda frowns lightly, clutching to Natasha’s hand as if she’ll slip away. “I don’t even know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t seem to pass here Natasha, when did you last dream?”

Natasha brings Wanda’s head close to her lips, kissing her forehead and closing her eyes. “I don’t really know. Two weeks, maybe more? We’re trying so hard to figure this out, I promise you.”

Natasha wanted to say _I’m sorry, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to save you and it’s fucking killing me inside._ But she doesn’t, her throat closes up because the last thing Wanda needs is to worry about anyone but herself. Besides, Wanda has a free pass into her mind whenever she wants anyways, and Natasha is okay with that. She’s okay with Wanda filling a part of her soul.   
  
Wanda then leans into the touch, into Natasha’s kiss. Maybe she isn’t in her head this time.

  “I do not doubt that love, but did you notice? I…I tried to make it beautiful, this void.” Wanda smiles sadly, looking to Natasha’s lips. “Or maybe the better word is bearable.”

Natasha leans back and looks to the beauty surrounding them. She furrows her brow though, because Steve said Bucky is still covered in darkness and Okoye said she saw T’Challa be swallowed by shadows still, like his body was void of light.

 “Yeah, it’s beautiful _malishka_. How…how did you do it?”

Wanda doesn’t answer, she simply closes her eyes, then to open them again, the red seeping into them and swirling between her iris’. Her hands twitch, and she brings her closed fist up to the space between their bodies. When she opens it, a small flower blooms into her palm, her magic crackling to life between their bodies.

Natasha looks on in quiet awe, a small smile on her face and her hand on Wanda’s chest. Softly smoothing over Wanda’s skin where the button up shirt she wears opens, just to remind herself the younger woman is breathing.

 “My powers, they…” Wanda twitches her fingers; the flower turning into a seedling. “They work here, like they are a _part_ of it. Maybe I am…maybe I am in a realm the reality stone created. Could that be it Natasha? I’m somewhere new, a new reality.”

Natasha spreads her fingers over Wanda’s skin, her gaze on her girlfriend’s chest, watching it rise and lower as she breathes. Wanda looks to Natasha, magic fizzling out as she smoothes her thumb to her girlfriend’s jawline, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

 “Natasha?”

Natasha closes her eyes, biting her lip. “Sorry I just, god Wanda I don’t fucking care. As long as you’re alive, and there is even a _small_ chance I can find you, that’s all that matters.”

Wanda smiles, tilting her head in this way that reminds Natasha of how young and innocent she is, but yet; how _powerful._

“Is Natasha Romanoff going soft on me?”  
  
Natasha snorts, rolling her eyes. “You wish.”   
  
She pulls back, folding her arms and cocking her hips in true Black Widow style and nodding to the house, making Wanda smile.

 “Now, you gonna show me your new crib or am I just spending the rest of this dream in a meadow?”

Wanda laughs, and it sounds like the wind chimes. Like the crickets that lie in the grass, or the breeze falling softly over them. Natasha isn’t sure how long the dream lasts, to her, it seems like days, or minutes, or seconds. She can’t tell.

But what she does know is that what seems like night time falls over them, and they lie in the hammock and Natasha fucking _misses_ how holding Wanda feels as they curl up against each other in the small space. Like Natasha can strip bare before her, to _seek_ comfort, not pretend like she doesn’t need it.

With their legs entangled, Natasha feels Wanda lay her arm across her stomach, pressing so close the heat between them feels infinite. And fireflies dance above their heads. And it’s warm. And it’s perfect. And they don’t speak much but as Wanda’s fingers run across her stomach and the space where her shirt rides up, Natasha says into the night air:

 “I don’t ever want to wake up, Wanda.”

Wanda looks up, opting to sit up and hover over Natasha. She looks so soft, unguarded, smile light as her hair falls in a curtain around them. She lets her thumb softly rest at Natasha’s bottom lip, softly smoothing it over as she stares.

It’s a miracle, kind of, Natasha thinks, getting lost in Wanda’s gaze and succumbing to her touch. That Wanda can look so unbothered in the face of unknowingness.

And the younger woman then looks like she’s about to say something, but thinks better of it. Simply leaning down and capturing Natasha’s lips with her own.

Yet suddenly, Natasha feels the string at the base of her neck _pull_ , tugging at her spine again. And before she can open her mouth, she is bolting upright in her bed and feeling her back almost detach itself from her body with how hard she is taken back.

She pants, eyes wet with tears at how raw and painful it is each time, each time being ripped from Wanda. The nape of her neck is beading with sweat, and she pulls her knees to her chest, trying to cling onto the last fading pieces of what she saw.

She closes her eyes, she can still smell the night breeze and Wanda’s hair and the feeling of her lips against her own.

She can still _feel,_ and that’s so comforting. Because Natasha, lately, has wondered if feeling anything was possible anymore.

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Why do you get the farm and sunshine and I get an endless pit of darkness?”

Okoye asks it as she folds her arms, standing around the table with Steve and Natasha across from her. The question is light, Okoye has a strange knack for making dark situations bearable. Natasha can respect that, it’s probably why they get along so well.

They’ve spent the past hour going over their new dreams. Okoye says T’Challa is still in darkness, but sometimes rarely, a crack of light comes from the floor. Or ceiling. She isn’t really sure, there seems to be no sense of direction where they dream.

Steve said something about Bucky sitting with his knees to his chest, dark hair covering his face. And no matter how hard he tries, Steve can never reach him. That one kind of hurts Natasha, in this way that’s heartbreaking. Imagine losing someone for 70 years, finding them again, helping them heal, and losing them again. Just with the snap of fingers.

I _t must hurt_ , Natasha thinks with an empathetic furrow of her brows, _that kind of heartbreak._

She shakes herself out of it, feeling her heart weigh heavier at the thoughts. She raises an eyebrow as she answers Okoye, kicking her feet up on the table again as Steve leans against it, folding her arms.

 “We think it’s her magic, how Wanda is connected to the stones. Makes the dreams, and the place she is, easy to control for her.”  
  
 “We?” Okoye furrows her brows, gesturing to Steve and Natasha in question. And Natasha shakes her head, crossing her feet at the ankles.

 “No. Wanda and I. She thinks because she’s connected to the stones, she is able to control the energy around her.”

Okoye straightens, frowning. “Wait, you can talk to her?”

Natasha looks back to her questioningly, shrugging. “Yeah? I thought we all could.”

Steve shakes his head, Okoye breathing in and clasping her hands behind her back. It’s Steve who speaks, looking to the ground in thought.

 “Every time I try and talk to Bucky, my voice just sounds like I’m underwater. He uh, he never answers.”

Natasha flicks her gaze to Steve, expression softening. Okoye speaks up, closing her eyes as she gathers her thoughts. How painful is this all for them? Are these dreams sapping their life?

 “T’Challa looks through me, like I’m a ghost. As if I’m...not really there.”

Natasha wants to say something, anything, maybe that she’s sorry or that she wishes they could hear their voices, or that _nothing_ about any of this is fair. But nothing comes out, and as absurd as it is in their situation, Steve and Okoye look to Natasha like she’s the lucky one. And it seems like they don’t mean to, Steve clears his throat and looks to the ground again in apology, Okoye excuses herself from the room and tries to stop the ache in her heart from screaming out loud.

The Black Widow watches Steve after a moment, and he follows after the general, running his hand through his hair and sighing.

And Natasha tips her head back, looking to the ceiling and dropping her legs to the floor. Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes and breathing deep. In. Out. In. Out. Like Wanda would show her at night when she woke up screaming from memories and nightmares.

Her soft hands, holding her, hushing her, red tendrils of magic seeping from her fingers and calming her mind. Natasha would calm her breathing, clutch to Wanda like an anchor, tethering her to the earth.

_Wanda._

Everything seems to come back to her.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

_Scotland. 3 months ago._

 “You know, we could have just rented a hotel near Edinburgh. Vision tells me the city is beautiful.”

Wanda sheds the light jacket she’s wearing, watching Natasha round the bed of the safe house/apartment Wanda and Vision share. Natasha drags her hands across the surface, feeling the silk beneath her fingers as she smirks up at the younger girl, raising an eyebrow.

 “And miss Tony’s generous donation of Egyptian silk sheets? Wanda, do you not even know me baby?”

Wanda smiles, rolling her eyes as she slips off her heels, walking to the mini bar of the room and tilting her head as she reaches for bottles that line the wall. “Vodka or whisky love?”

Natasha crawls onto the bed, almost like a cat, and hooks her fingers into the belt loops of Wanda’s jeans, pulling her close and making her turn so they face the other, smiling as Wanda distractedly runs her fingers through Natasha’s red locks; still reading the labels of the bottles. It’s so soft and intimate in this way Natasha can’t explain.

 “I think I’m thirsty for something else…”

Wanda rolls her eyes again, smiling softly and leaning down to kiss Natasha as a bottle dangles from her fingers. She pulls back, mumbling with a soft smile against Natasha’s lips.

 “You’re insatiable.”

Natasha shrugs, winking as she smiles. “You love it.”

She does, Wanda loves Natasha so much she wonders if it’s possible to burn up from its intensity. She goes to say that, to mumble “I love you” against her lips. But suddenly Natasha’s mouth is at her neck, making Wanda quietly close her eyes and moan, toes curling at the feeling of Natasha’s fingers at her navel; massaging softly to the skin there. Her magic is so _responsive_ to Natasha touch, and the air crackles to life with it.

 “You sound so good baby,” Natasha nips at Wanda’s jaw, the same time she slips her fingers lower, voice raspy and low making Wanda, like always, blush when she praises her. “Come on, I want to hear you.”

And just like that, Wanda moans as Natasha kisses her, bucking up into her fingers and feeling her knees weaken. And god, when they fuck it’s powerful and beautiful and almost earth shattering but when they make love? When both of them worship the other like goddesses, Wanda feels like she could hold the weight of the universe in the palm of her hand; feels the most powerful she’s ever felt. Like she could breathe in dying stars and exhale them into space.

Natasha trails kisses down her torso, feeling Wanda fist her hair and moan, tugging and pulling and it makes Natasha whimper; makes her want _nothing_ else in the world than the girl right in front of her.

And isn’t it beautiful? That in that moment, both _want_ each other. Need each other. So desperately, they feel like they could be consumed by the weight of it.

Natasha, sometimes, on quiet nights as she stares and stares and _stares_ out her open window, remembers this particular memory. It hurts, yeah, it fucking kills sometimes. But it reminds Natasha how even here, now, with Wanda gone, she can still _feel_ her. Feel her everywhere. The air she breathes, the dreams she has, she can feel Wanda in every aspect of her life.

It’s a nice thought, empowering too, knowing the love you share with someone could level cities. Even transcend time and space.

 _Hell,_ Natasha thinks, smiling and thinking about Wanda’s laugh. _Even fucking reality itself._

 

 

-

 

 


	4. energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello good afternoon i love wanda maximoff 
> 
> anyways enjoy! as always ur feedback means the world and is so so appreciated! :) this chap isnt as long as others as im busy with uni, but i wanted to get something out for u all as we're all truly lacking from wanda/nat content!!!

 

 

-

 

This time, Wanda lays on the hammock, foot still dangling; with a book in her hands as the sun hits her cheek.

Natasha falls into the dream, softly now. Nothing is tugged, she isn’t ripped apart, it’s so jarring to Natasha she honestly wonders if she _is_ dreaming, rather than being with Wanda in this ‘universe’. And this time around, Natasha’s wearing a soft, white cotton shirt and matching shorts. And it makes her smile down at herself and wonder if Wanda picks these outfits out. Makes her wonder if this is what the younger woman thinks of when she envisions the future. A house in a meadow, the sun on their skin; Natasha admits, she kinda likes it too.

 “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Wanda’s amused voice brings Natasha out of her day dream, making her smirk and ascend the wooden stairs as Wanda looks up from her book. She dog ears the page, her deft fingers flicking the paper down and it reminds Natasha just how fucking much she loves and misses the little things about Wanda. How she tilts her head, how she bites her lip, how she speaks as if the whole world was listening to her words, how sometimes, like now, she was so comfortable she’d tuck her legs under her. Seeming so small.

Natasha opts to lower onto the ground next to the hammock, sitting cross legged and starting to lightly rock it, letting her head rest on Wanda’s thigh. It makes Wanda smile and roll her eyes, accent thick like honey as the hammock swings back and forth.

 “I’m not a child you know.”

Natasha jokingly smiles back, shrugging. She doesn’t answer, and Wanda closes her eyes and lets herself melt into the presence of Natasha. Let’s herself bask in how she smells of lemongrass and lavender, or maybe that’s just the meadow around them. Wanda doesn’t know, but as her magic flickers from her fingers in contentment, Natasha breaks the silence. Her soft, raspy, familiar voice making Wanda sigh.

 “I missed your accent.”  
  
Wanda opens one eye, staring down to Natasha whose head is still in her lap, eyes soft and smile light. You wouldn’t be able to tell she’s a trained assassin in this moment, wouldn’t be able to pick her out as a woman who’s murdered hundreds. But Wanda likes to think that’s how she _is,_ Natasha Romanoff, cold hearted fighter one minute, soft puppy with Wanda the next. It makes her chuckle at her own thoughts.

 “My accent? The one _you_ helped me mask, love?”

Natasha rests her head in her hand, elbow on the hammock. “Yep. The very one. I have told you how hot it is, right?”  
  
Wanda laughs, turning in the hammock to face Natasha, faces now close enough to kiss. “Only one million times.”

Natasha finds that moment the perfect time, leaning in and capturing Wanda lips in a deep kiss. Wanda gasps into it, hand coming up to the back of Natasha’s head, fisting her short hair. Fuck, she _missed_ this. And she knows this is real and where they are is _real_ but feeling Natasha’s lips, her pulse, feeling her thoughts and words swirling around her head from her powers after so long sends Wanda into a head spin; wanting more.

 _I know you’re in my head little witch,_ Wanda feels Natasha’s smile against her lips. _Just can’t get enough of me, huh?_

Wanda pulls back, smiling and blushing softly at Natasha’s amused raised eyebrow. “Sorry, I…”

 “Hey,” Natasha lets her finger come up under Wanda’s chin, tilting her head up and ducking her own head to meet her eyes. “You’re allowed in there whenever. It’s…nice.” Natasha’s lips flicker into a smile, and Wanda sees the Black Widow almost grow shy slightly as she elaborates.

 “Feeling you. Inside me.” Natasha suddenly frowns at her words, Wanda biting her lip to stop her smile. “Not sexually I mean, I meant like…you know what? Any way I say it will sound sexual. Can we forget this conversation ever happened?”

Wanda laughs, and Natasha joins in, kissing her cheek and nuzzling just under her jaw. “That’s what I get for trying to be romantic.”

 “If you want me inside you, all you have to do is ask Natasha.”

Natasha pulls back with a faux gasp, acting scandalised. Wanda smiles as Natasha chuckles, sobering up. “Why was the way you said that so sexy?”

 “Natasha!” Wanda pushes a laughing Natasha, joining in when her love simply comes back from the shove and opts to stand, folding her arms as a slight breeze hits her skin. She flicks her head in the direction of the vast meadow surrounding them, her smile soft.

 “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Wanda tilts her head questioningly, but still takes Natasha’s now outstretched hand and feels how their fingers clasp together. Wanda doesn’t think she’ll ever be over the spark of energy that runs up both of their arms when they touch.

 “I figured since we’re in a different dimension, or universe, or…where ever the fuck we are,” Natasha bumps their shoulders together as they make their way down the steps, towards the sea of green. “that’d we make the most of it, you know?.”

Wanda leans lightly into Natasha as they walk, closing her eyes and letting Natasha guide her as she feels the sun on her skin. Is it the earth’s sun? Or another planets’? Is this warmth hitting her skin just energy, not an actual star?

Those thoughts make her head spin, Wanda opts to opening her eyes and focusing on Natasha.

The other woman is letting her hands run through the long grass as they walk, lips upturned in small side smile at the feeling. Wanda looks to their hands, to the scars that mark Natasha’s fingers and hands, feels the bumps under her own palm; she thinks about how those hands have killed, how her own has too.

Then she thinks of Natasha’s touch, how it’s safe and its warm and it’s _beautiful_ and how without Natasha, without the woman next to her, Wanda wonders where she would be. Where she would be if Natasha never lent her that red leather jacket, never trained her, never sat with her under the stars and talked about Pietro and her past and the woman who _forgave_ her after making her see her own horrors of her childhood and torture.

The woman who seems to pull her from death every time she’s at the edge of it.

Or is _Wanda_ death? Is she no better? She failed she failed she failed. And now she’s here, stuck. Was it because the world seemed to crumble in her hands when her body did?

 “Natasha?”

The other woman hums back, looking up from the ground to Wanda with questioning eyes, squeezing their hands once. “Yeah?”

Wanda breathes in, reality falls upon her shoulders, the sun starts to set wherever they are and Wanda suddenly can’t _breathe_ with the revelation.

 “Why…why are you still here?”

Natasha looks to her, eyebrows furrowed. As if the idea she wouldn’t be is confusing to her. “Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, besides the fact I have no control over when I see you. But if I did? I’d be here every day.”

It’s said so simply, so matter of fact, Wanda feels like she’s breathing in the universe when Natasha says things like that. As if they would have no effect on her.

Wanda stops walking, making Natasha stop too. “Hey,”

Natasha notices with a start, the slight tears that have formed in Wanda’s eyes. She cradles the younger woman’s face, letting a tear drop to her thumb as she wipes It away.

Wanda takes a breath, she looks to Natasha, voice croaking with the effort of holding back her rage, her confusion, her _fear._ She’s lost so many people, she loses she loses she _loses_ and how long is it before she loses Natasha? How long before she stops being scared, and starts being angry?  

Her voice almost comes out as detached when she speaks next, feeling Natasha’s hand against her cheek like an anchor. She breathes in, she breathes out.

 “I could kill everyone I’ve ever loved with the snap of my fingers Natasha. How does that make me any different from Thanos?”

Natasha frowns, letting her thumb rub softly just under Wanda’s jaw. “Hey, no. Don’t think like that.”

Wanda looks up to Natasha, letting the red seep into her eyes, almost trying to prove her words to Natasha. “Am I wrong? I have that same power, that same potential. I...How,” Her eyes turn back, she lets her body melt into Natasha’s, her voice quiet. “How am I any different?”  
  
 “You’re different because you’re _you,_ Wanda.” Natasha’s voice is determined, cradling Wanda’s face as she speaks. The words seeming to hit Wanda in the chest as she loses herself in Natasha’s eyes.

 “You are _not_ the same as him, you have heart. And compassion. And god, _love_ Wanda. You have so much fucking love inside of you, sometimes I think you don’t know what to do with it.”

It almost seems to feel like the earth they stand on is shifting, _moving,_ like the words Natasha speaks to Wanda is making her change reality; reshape the universe.

 “And hey, maybe you can. Maybe you could kill me and the entire universe with your pinkie finger, but you _won’t._ Because that’s not you, and it never will be.”

Wanda flicks her gaze from Natasha’s lips, up to her eyes and it feels like Natasha has stolen her breath. Like the stars live in the lining of her skin and when Natasha touches her, she sets them free. And Wanda kisses her, fisting her hands into the front of Natasha’s shirt and pulling her close, wanting to melt into her. Natasha responds in kind, breathing heavily against her lips as they pull back.

 “I’m going to find you,” She says against Natasha’s lips, like its set in stone, like what she speaks becomes true. “I am not trapped, I know this now, I am lost. And I’m going to come back to you, somehow.”  
  
And Natasha smiles, letting their foreheads press together as their eyes close. “Can’t wait, killer.”

When Wanda opens her eyes, Natasha’s gone.

Wanda sits in the meadow, watching the imprint of Natasha’s feet on the grass slowly disappear. She plays with her magic, changes the scenery around her thousands of times. She sits at the bottom of the ocean, the clearing of a forest, amidst the fog of rolling hills, she manifests Natasha’s red leather jacket onto her and brings the collar to her nose, breathes in the smell.

 _I will find home,_ _Natasha._ Wanda thinks, closing her eyes and opening them again, red seeming to spark out of her irises. It seems _angry,_ her magic reflecting her emotions, red jumping between her twitching fingers. Just one spark enough to level a city.  _And I will kill him._

 

( _“Wanda, if you stay here, you’ll die.”_

 _“I just did, do you know how it felt?”_ )

 

Wanda blinks from the memory, watching her magic fall over her fingers as she clicks; just like Thanos did, whispering the missing words into the air.

 “Like that.”

 

-


	5. power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh sorry for late update, life is super busy right now but i hope you all enjoy this chap! xx also im thinking of posting a little mini fic of nat x wanda set in between the events of civil war and infinity war. so keep an eye out for that and let me know if you'd be interested!!! anyways ive rambled sjdjsdk enjoy!!

 

-

 

 “Hey,”

When Natasha looks up from her phone at the voice, she’s surprised to find Okoye standing at the end of the couch she lays on; arms folded across her chest. Natasha raises an eyebrow in question, locking her phone and waiting.

They haven’t talked much, Okoye busies herself with helping Queen Ramonda and Nakia in repairing Wakanda, watching how the country almost quietly heals itself. Rebuilding and regrouping, and Natasha each time has the urge to volunteer to help, but she feels like an outsider. There, but not quit fitting in. Which she’s fine with, it’s kinda how she’s existed her whole entire life.

Plus, every time she _does_ say something about going out to help, Shuri usually distracts Natasha by excitedly showing her new inventions; so Natasha can’t escape the tower even if she tried.

She’s pulled back to the present when she curls her legs up, a silent okay for Okoye to sit in the spot next to her. And after a moment, the other woman does, dropping into the cushions and its almost as if it’s the first time in weeks her shoulders finally _relax._

 “Can I talk to you?”

Natasha shrugs, leaning her head on her hand with her elbow on the arm rest. “Shoot.”

Okoye sighs, the words that fall from her lips almost hitting Natasha in the chest. It’s random, and out of nowhere, and Natasha wonders why now of all moments Okoye decides to talk about this.

 “When the Scarlet Witch killed those civilians in Nigeria, the grief that befell the country was almost suffocating.”

Natasha sits silent, listening to her words. The memory of that day is clear in her mind as Okoye talks, and Natasha breathes in; heart heavy at the loss. The sound of the screams. The _children._ The ear deafening sound of the explosion. How she thinks, or knows, that Wanda’s never really come back from that. How she’s still trying to piece together the broken parts of Wanda’s heart from it.

Okoye keeps talking, opting to stand and look outside the window, Wakanda vast and beautiful through the glass. “I do not resent her Natasha, if that is what you’re thinking.”

Natasha furrows her brow, wondering where Okoye is going with this.

 “When Wakanda heard, it was instant, how we questioned the actions of this little girl; chaotic, wild, _untrained._ Was it intentional? Is she stable? We asked ourselves.”

Natasha closes her eyes, listening to Okoye’s words. And they aren’t malicious, Okoye speaks with truth, with honesty, clasping her hands behind her back as she gazes out the window; looking to the floor and gathering her words.

 “I have come to find she is neither of those things though. The country healed, they buried their dead and came together, building love in a time of loss. Which is why I wanted to ask you, Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha looks up, eyebrows furrowed in question, her mind foggy with Okoye’s words. And the other woman turns her head form the window, words ringing out into the room.

 “Did Wanda heal?”

Natasha opens her mouth, she goes to say _Yes. She did. She cried and she healed and she screamed into my arms and clung to me and said “I’m sorry” thousands of times over and I held her and took her sadness._

But instead, what comes out of Natasha’s mouth is nothing of the sort, her voice cracking slightly as she speaks.

 “Why are you asking me this?”

Okoye closes her eyes, the words almost cracking Natasha’s chest in two.

 “Because there is nothing more unstable then a broken hero, Natasha. You of all people should know that. You love her, this I _know._ But she seemed ready to die, to save the universe, to save _you._ You didn’t see the look on her face when she disappeared.”

Natasha notices light tears in Okoye’s eyes, the memory of losing so many people coming back to her once, and Natasha starts lightly; tears of her own gathering in her eyes. She looks down quickly shutting her eyes, willing them to stop.

 “No, I didn’t.”

_I_ _feel like I would have died a little more if I did._

Okoye nods, turning back to the window. “I’m sorry, I know this is hard to talk about for you.” Natasha almost scoffs, because: _Really? No shit._ “I just…was thinking about it. About how you said she was controlling the reality she’s in. It…it must be difficult being there.” Okoye pauses, as if she’s thinking of T’Challa too.

 “I just hope she’s okay, Natasha.”

Okoye’s voice turns soft, and Natasha realises in that moment the hearts Wanda has touched. How in the little time Okoye and her spoke, her little witch somehow catches the love of people around her as if it was easy as breathing. Natasha’s lips quirk into a small smile, thinking of Wanda and how she’s alive and how one day, they’ll be okay again; together on earth. She swears it.

 “Hey,”

Okoye turns, eyebrow raised in question as Natasha speaks warmly. “I hope T’Challa’s okay too.”

It feels like a friendship, an unlikely one, but when Okoye smiles back, walking out of the room, Natasha runs a hand through her hair. Laying down on the couch she sits on, staring out the window.

She falls asleep, willing the universe to _find_ her.

To bring her back to Wanda again.

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Fuck!”

Wanda paces the meadow for the seventieth time that day, hands in her hair as she grits her teeth, shutting her eyes and her magic sparking from her finger tips. Natasha raises an eyebrow at the other woman, laying on her back with her hands under her head.

Natasha entered the reality halfway through Wanda meditating and her eyes flickering under her closed eyelids; red tendrils escaping her twitching hands. Natasha simply laid with her head in her loves lap, waiting for her to wake.

Wanda eventually did, opening one eye and smiling the most blinding smile, and Natasha swore she was in the presence of her own sun.

Then as time passed, Wanda tried again. Meditating or honing her powers or trying to reach _something_ she won’t tell Natasha about. Which is kind of pissing Natasha off, but instead of saying anything, the older woman laid in the meadow and watched. Listened to Wanda’s groans of displeasure each time she didn’t succeed at what ever she’s trying to succeed _at._

 “Woah killer,” Natasha is pulled back to the present, raising an eyebrow to a still pacing Wanda. “Don’t hurt yourself, yeah?”

Wanda sighs, stopping abruptly and rubbing her finger tips to her temple. She’s wearing nothing but one of Natasha’s oversized long sleeves shirts, bare footed in the grass, the clouds softly moving overhead. And Natasha sits up, eyebrows furrowed to Wanda who seems like she’s two seconds away from uprooting a tree with her magic out of frustration.

 “Hey, come here.”  
  
Wanda looks up, frowning at first in question. But when she sees Natasha’s expectant look, but soft eyes, she melts, walking over and sitting beside her. When she does, Natasha takes Wanda’s hand in hers, clasping them together and squeezing softly. The touch instantly has the red in Wanda’s eyes receding, sighing as she melts into Natasha’s hold. She rests her head on Natasha’s warm and soft shoulder, nuzzling just under her neck and just, _breathing._ Letting Natasha ground her.

 “You have to tell me what’s going on _malishka._ ” Natasha brings her finger up under Wanda’s chin, tilting her head up. She presses a soft kiss against her lips, breathing the words out and _god,_ Wanda thinks, _how does Natasha make it feel like the universe lives inside of me?_

“I want to help you, yeah? But you’re kinda leaving me out in the cold here, Maximoff.”

Wanda closes her eyes, sighing. Does she want to tell her? Tell her how there is a rage and anger inside of her she’s afraid won’t calm? That she’s trying, trying to reach _him._ Find Thanos. Unleash everything she’s felt, from losing her home, her Pietro, Vision, losing Natasha. Unleash all the sadness and confusion and _rage_ onto him it’ll feel like she’s splitting the universe in two?

When she opens her eyes, leaning back from Natasha’s neck, the other woman is looking back to her with an expectant raised eyebrow and that small smile, and everything inside of Wanda succumbs.

 “I’m sorry, I just…”

Natasha sits patiently, thumb rubbing softly atop Wanda’s hand, and Wanda breathes Natasha in.

 “I’m trying to find him. Thanos.”

Natasha furrows her brows, nodding to Wanda’s words. “You think he’s…here?”  
  
Wanda shakes her head, melts into Natasha’s hold a little more. She’ll never be over how safe it is in the other woman’s arms.

 “No, I don’t believe he is. Not here with us, that is.” At that, Natasha relaxes slightly. And Wanda continues, voice raspy and soft, travelling throughout Natasha’s body.

 “But he’s definitely in something similar. When you’re not here, I’ve been changing reality to find him. Sifting through alternate worlds.” Wanda grows sheepish slightly at that, and Natasha frowns, opening her mouth in shock.

 “Wait wait wait. You’re risking the chance of seeing him again? And you only thought to tell me this now?”

Wanda bites her lip slightly, playing with the ends of her sleeves. “Yes?” At that, Natasha groans, falling back into the grass behind her with her arms over her eyes.  Wanda is quick to straddle her, smiling and resting her hands softly against her stomach.

 “It’s not like I couldn’t take him if it came down to it, Natasha.”

 Natasha scoffs, moving her arms and feeling Wanda’s weight above her as she gazes up to her. She leans up on her elbows, sighing. “That’s not the point, killer. I can’t…” Natasha swallows, and her raspy voice cracks in this way that makes Wanda’s smile slowly disappear.

 “I can’t lose you, Wanda. Not again.”

 “Natasha…”

With a start, Wanda notices Natasha’s eyes grow wet and Natasha herself grits her teeth and groans at how she feels a tear at her cheek, wiping it away with her hand angrily. 

 “God, I fucking hate crying.”

And Wanda kisses her, darts forwards and swallows Natasha’s words. And she says against her lips that she’s sorry, that she won’t lose her again, that she swears they’re safe and that-

 “I love you.”

Natasha opens her eyes, mouth open as Wanda pulls from the kiss, chest heaving at the words that left her lips. Natasha breathes out, heart thudding so fast she can’t hear anything else other than Wanda’s small breathes and her own heart beat.

 “What did you just say?”

Natasha asks it breathlessly, and Wanda swallows once and repeats the words that has the meadow around them seem to move. The breeze picking up, the clouds moving, the sun shining _brighter._

Wanda smiles, kissing Natasha again, hard enough that they fall backwards into the grass. “I love you, Natasha.”

And Natasha laughs against her lips, whispering with those fucking tears in her voice again. She honestly doesn’t care now, because Wanda makes her _feel_ so much when she thought she couldn’t feel anything at all anymore.

 “Holy shit. I love you too.”

And they feel alive, the universe and reality around them stops for a moment and bends to _them_. And when Natasha fists the hair at the base of Wanda’s neck the sun streaks across the sky, turning into the moon and night time falling upon them in seconds, like a switch. And when Natasha grasps at Wanda’s sides, making Wanda gasp, the stars in the sky beat to the rhythm of Wanda’s heart beat and it’s like she’s a _part_ of it. Like every time Natasha touches her, a bit of reality is altered and changed and _torn._

Natasha wonders if Wanda is the essence of space and time sometimes. Like Wanda herself is a thread, an untethered part of the fabric of the universe.

 _And I’m in love with her,_ Natasha thinks, kissing Wanda and smiling against her lips when Wanda deepens it.  

_Holy fuck, I’m in love with her._

 

_-_

 


	6. soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh boy it is very scarletwidow heavy in this chap sdskd mostly bc i love them and also wanted to give some background to their relationship. anyways i hope you enjoy! all your comments and support on this fic honestly keep me going :) next chap will hopefully be up sometime soon x

 

 

-

 

 

It feels like days, this time, that Natasha stays in Wanda’s reality.

Usually, she’s ripped out after a few hours; bolting up awake and breathing hard. But this time, as she sits leaning her cheek on her drawn up knees, watching Wanda peacefully sleep, it feels like she’s been here for longer. Natasha isn’t sure, but she wonders if its Wanda’s doing, how as she grows stronger with this reality, the longer she can hold onto Natasha. The longer she can keep her from disappearing.

 “Staring is rude you know.”

Wanda’s amused voice brings Natasha out of her day dream, the older woman smiling back as Wanda slowly opens her eyes. The sun filters through the window of the farm house, silk sheets wrapping around their legs as Wanda stretches. A small moan escapes her, making Natasha’s eyes soften; a sudden thought coming to her mind.

 “When did you know?”

Wanda furrows her brow in question as Natasha lays back down, turning to face her as Wanda softly takes her hand, playing with Natasha’s fingers. “Know what?”

Natasha looks to their hands, bringing them up to her mouth and kissing Wanda’s palm. Wanda doesn’t think she’ll ever be over seeing this side of Natasha, how she is the _only_ one who does. It makes dying (or maybe just disappearing) for the world, so worth it.

 “That you loved me.”

Natasha looks into her eyes, smile playing her lips, and Wanda’s eyes soften, kissing Natasha for a moment, to then speak against her lips. “Can I show you?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, tucking a stray piece of Wanda’s hair behind her ear. “What, like the memory of it? Or were you about to do a live re-enactment?”

Wanda rolls her eyes to a smiling Natasha, deft hand coming up to the side of the other woman’s face, softly trailing down from her temple to her jawline, making Natasha hum. Her magic softly crackles in between her fingers, gliding against Natasha’s skin.

 “No, I mean with my powers, love. I can show you the moment. Well, what I remember of it anyways.”

It’s taken years for Natasha to be comfortable with another person essentially inside of her mind. But that trust, that feeling of knowing Wanda would only go to where Natasha allows her is so _strong,_ that sometimes rarely, when Wanda is inside of her mind, Natasha feels overwhelmed. Like Wanda’s presence, her very essence and energy, lives inside of Natasha in that moment.

So she leans in and kisses Wanda, conveying that feeling, and speaks against her lips.

 “Go ahead,” Natasha smirks lightly, covering up the still small lingering fear of giving herself completely over to someone. “I trust you.”

Wanda breathes in, and _I trust you_ between them is even more powerful than _I love you._ In a way that’s so unique to them, so tangible and real that when those words leave Natasha’s lips, Wanda cups Natasha’s face with her hands; eyes swirling red.

 “It’ll only be me, I won’t go anywhere you won’t let me and as soon as you want me gone just say-“

 “Sweetheart?”

Wanda bites her lip, blushing at her rambling. “Yes?”

Natasha chuckles lightly, placing her hand over one of Wanda’s as they lie facing one another, staring into her swirling red irises. “I’m good, yeah? Just…show me.”

Wanda breathes in, nodding and pressing her forehead to Natasha’s as red tendrils seep from her fingers and into Natasha’s temple. She doesn’t have to, have to be this close to someone to be inside of their mind. But feeling Natasha against her, surrounding her, knowing she’s okay and that she trusts Wanda, is just…what she needs in this moment. To know Natasha is okay.

And when the other woman gasps, hand clutching to Wanda’s as her green eyes are flooded with red, Wanda hushes her softly; easing her into the memories. Natasha relaxes slightly, blinking and furrowing her brows, as if she’s seeing something else entirely then the room they are in.

 “You…you knew _here_? Wanda this is…this was over two years ago.”  
  
Wanda smiles lightly, her thumb rubbing softly at Natasha’s temple as Natasha watches the memory flick past her eyes. “It was just before the Accords, after I-“ Wanda closes her eyes, remembering the death and destruction, her heart beating painfully as she swallows.  

 “Natasha you…you showed me compassion when I least deserved it.”

Natasha’s eyes are still red, watching the memory, but she furrows her brows at the words. “That’s not true, you deserved it even then.”

Wanda can’t help it then, a lone tear tracks its way down to meet her jawline. Feeling Natasha so near her, hearing her voice and _feeling_ her so close is overwhelming. So she lets her own eyes turn red as the memory gets clearer, _deeper,_ as Wanda presses their bodies even closer and delves into the past.

And the memory is so _clear,_ it feels like a beating heart, living and real.

Natasha knows exactly the moment Wanda shows her, only needing the small flickering moments before to realise where they are. They’re at the Avengers facility, and it starts with Wanda, so much younger and drawn in; mouth open as she goes to ask the question that Natasha already knows the answer to.

And as dream Wanda goes to speak; that’s when they’re fully pulled into the memory, Wanda holding Natasha close as they’re thrust into the past.

 

 

-

 

 

_memory_

  
When Wanda first asks it, Natasha has never seen the other girl so, well, _uncomfortable._

And it’s not a bad uncomfortable, it’s endearing and charming and Natasha knows, as her mouth upturns into a small smile listening to Wanda’s words, that what she is asking for is _big_. For both of them, in a way. And Wanda plays with her rings around her fingers, opting to sit at the bar as Natasha pours drinks behind it and waits patiently for the other girl to speak.

It’s one of their many nights together, where Natasha makes Wanda any drink she can think of that she hasn’t tried, and Wanda lets alcohol meet her lips and sometimes she coughs with how strong it is, making Natasha laugh; and Wanda can say the darkness that feels like it takes a hold of her heart disappears for a moment.

And it’s now a _thing_ they have, something they share.

After Nigeria, sometimes Wanda wonders if light will ever come back into her, where she’ll not want to just exist, but _live._ Wanda is healing. She’s trying. She feels a little more human, not monster or just existing, when Natasha smiles to her with her eyebrow quirked like that. When Natasha laughs at something she says, when Natasha touches the inside of her arm, when Natasha holds her at night, when Natasha helps her breathe when she doesn’t think she can anymore, when Natasha-

Okay, maybe her happiness is revolving around Natasha more often than not. Which is okay, everyone needs someone to make them feel a little more human, a little more loved.

 “Earth to Maximoff?”  
  
Wanda blinks out of her thoughts at Natasha’s amused voice, feeling the other woman’s hand atop hers. “You okay sweetheart?”

Wanda tries to hide her blush at that, shaking herself out of it and smiling. “Sorry, I was daydreaming.”

Natasha half shrugs, adding ice to the glass of alcohol in front of her. It’s a reddish purple, maybe something fruity, and Wanda watches the condensation drip down the side; how Natasha’s fingers wrap around it and slide it to her.

 “S’okay. Before you tell me what’s on your mind though,” Natasha smiles softly, tapping the glass with her fingernail and leaning against the table with her hip, folding her arms. “This one I have a feeling you’ll like.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, smiling back and leaning with her forearms against the bar. She takes the drink, holding it up and letting the light hit it, tilting her head as she brings it to her lips. Natasha just rolls her eyes at Wanda, snorting as the other girl attentively takes a sip.   
  
 “Jesus, I didn’t poison it.”

Wanda softly glares at Natasha, lips upturning into a small smile as she finally tastes it. And it _is_ fruity, and cold, and it tastes like pomegranate and vodka and it makes her throat tingle and Natasha leans on the bar on her arms so she’s closer, and _woah,_ when did Natasha’s eyes look so beautiful? Like they could swallow Wanda whole?

 “So?”

Wanda tilts her head, licking her lips. She feels like there’s something in the air, something _between_ them. Like there’s a crackle of energy surrounding them. And Natasha watches her lips, getting lost in how effortlessly magical Wanda is.

 “I like it. But I feel like you put at _least_ three shots in this, Nat.”  
  
The air is broken, Natasha chuckles softly and she likes how Wanda says her name with a smile. She says it warmly, sweetly, like she was tasting honey as she spoke. It makes Natasha feel like everything around them stills for a moment, that they can forget the tension that exists amongst the team.

 “It’s cause I did,” Natasha smirks, watching as Wanda sips the drink and savours the taste. “Anyways sunshine, what was on your mind?”

Wanda’s eyes widen, because she kind of forgot about _that_ with how Natasha can catch her attention and make it feel like no one exists except for them. So she bites her lip, tightening her grip on her glass as she takes a breath.

 “I…um. Was wondering actually…”

Natasha stands patiently, leaning against the bar on her hip. “Yeah?”

Wanda looks to her hands shyly, because asking this is _stupid_ and irrational and honestly, they have a mission tomorrow and Wanda hasn’t even fully honed her powers yet and why would she think Natasha cares? Or that she’d be fine with it? Wanda furrows her brows, closing her eyes, she almost forces the words from her lips.

 “Do you remember the other night? When I couldn’t sleep? You...you sung to me, something about wise men, and fools falling in love.”

Natasha folds her arms, shifting uncomfortably at that, and her cheeks tint red slightly as she clears her throat; Wanda sitting patiently as if she didn’t realise the effect the words would have on Natasha.

And yeah, well, she _does_ remember it. How could she not? There’s something about Wanda, something about her that breaks down Natasha’s defences and makes her protective, maybe even soft. She doesn’t know, but what she does know is that when Wanda screams at night, Natasha bolts up and runs into her room; holding her and letting her sob into her chest. Let’s her hold to her sleep shirt, soothes her with soft words and runs her fingers through her hair.

And one night, she sung, and it was like the horrors inside of Wanda’s mind left for a moment.

 “Uh, yeah, it’s Elvis.”

Wanda furrows her brow. “The song?”

Natasha relaxes slightly, rounding the table and standing next to Wanda, leaning her back against it.

 “Yeah, it’s called ‘can’t help falling in love with you’, pretty fucking cheesy if you ask me.”

Wanda smiles lightly, chuckling, and Natasha can’t explain it and she doesn’t want to either, but Wanda makes her _feel_ something, enough for her to smile softly at Wanda’s reaction and nudge her with her elbow.

 “So, you just wanted the name of the song?”

Wanda opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something else. But at the last minute, she seems to change her mind, smiling and nodding. “Yes, it’s beautiful. And your voice...” Wanda trails off, playing with her hands in her lap.

 “Your voice is beautiful, Natasha.”

The way Wanda says it, the way she _looks_ to her makes Natasha so fucking venerable and open and she realises in this moment, how this is getting _real_ and Wanda is making her feel things and the way she’s gazing at Natasha right now is cracking her defences down; as if they never existed in the first place.

And instead of saying anything, she presses a kiss to Wanda’s head, like every other night. Closing her eyes and speaking softly against her hair, Natasha’s hand light against the side of her head. And like every other time, Wanda leans into the touch, feeling Natasha’s raspy voice like it filled her mind.

 “Goodnight, Wanda. Sweet dreams.”

(Later, in the night, Wanda wakes up screaming and her magic flares outward like a pulsing wave. And Natasha runs into her room, hushing Wanda and calming her racing heart as the lights in her room flicker, as her eyes almost bleed her magic. Wanda cries brokenly that _“It hurts Natasha, it hurts. Why does it hurt?”_ and Natasha’s heart _breaks_ for the girl in her arms.)

Natasha holds her, sings softly, and Wanda knows then.

She knows she loves her.

 

 

-

 

 

 

Natasha gasps as Wanda’s magic leaves her fingers, seeps out of her mind as she falls back into reality. Well, into Wanda’s’ reality. Either way, as the memory fades Wanda opens her eyes, easing Natasha softly as the other woman’s chest labours. Her thumb is rubbing at Natasha’s temple, trying to lessen the pain of ripping her magic from her mind. And when they look to each other, Wanda furrowing her eyebrows worriedly, Natasha is the first to speak as she breathlessly smiles.

 “You know, I knew two separate times, that I loved you. The first was that night in Scotland when you said I feel like home,” Natasha cups Wanda’s cheek, thumb softly gliding over her bottom lip. “The second was just before the battle in Wakanda.”

Wanda can feel Natasha’s heart beat under her palm, resting her hand on Natasha’s chest. Natasha opens her mind slightly to Wanda, the younger woman reading a passing memory softly as she closes her eyes.  

 

_“Do you promise me? Promise me that no matter what happens out there, you don’t wait up for me. Get to Vision, protect each other. I know it’s hard, but you’re so strong. You’re so strong, Wanda.”_

_Natasha holds Wanda’s face in her hands, her voice steady as Wanda breathes in. Wanda’s hand splays out on Natasha’s armoured chest and Natasha is sturdy and solid, she’s the Black Widow in this moment. She’s deadly and cold and calculative but it’s her eyes that give her away; looking to Wanda like she holds her heart in her very palm._

_“Natasha…”_

The memory slips from view, and Wanda can’t help it but she still feels so _broken._ That Natasha was taken from her, that _everything’s_ taken from her and she wants to scream and let her fury out onto the universe she tried to protect, but failed to do so. But Natasha grounds her, she is the force that reminds her that she _tried,_ that she _did_ save the universe for a moment in time, and that she can again.

 “Natasha?”

 “Yeah?”

Her raspy voice falls over Wanda, and she buries herself into Natasha’s hold, giving her this moment to be with her. She wants to tell her, in this moment, tell her how close she feels to finding Thanos. How close she feels to getting back to Natasha’s reality, to their earth. To finding her, to _being_ with her, how it feels so close within her grasp it’s like she can feel it in her hands, like Natasha’s heart beat.

Instead, she kisses her, rolling on top of Natasha and stealing her breath.

They have this. Wanda tells herself that _this_ is enough, that feeling Natasha underneath her, her chest, her body, her lips, her blonde hair in between her fingers is everything she needs to find her way back. And it _is,_ Natasha is everything she needs to change reality, to find that never ending strength inside of her. To channel her powers and breach that gap between here, and earth.

Yes, Wanda might be the universe.

But Natasha is her sun.

 

 

-

 


	7. changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i know its been ages since ive updated, and this chapter isnt as long as others but i really wanted to write for this fic and give you guys a chap even tho i have like. two exams this week sdskdk i finally have a rough idea of where this fic is headed, and how it ends. and next chapter im going to aim for it to be a LONG one, which im super excited to write. 
> 
> anyways enjoy! comments are so appreciated they make my day and ur support on this fic means everything x

 

 

-

 

 

It’s four days later does Natasha decide something needs to be _done._

There’s no progress being made in finding them, the one’s they have lost, and Steve calls Tony and every time it goes to a message from an automated voice saying “ _The number you are trying to reach, does not exist anymore.”_ and it’s fucking frustrating and everyone is at a loss for what to do and it’s nearly making Natasha pull her hair out from stress.

She misses Wanda. And sometimes Natasha hates that because god; it just feels like constantly _everyone_ is missing _someone._

Shuri and Banner seem like they live in the laboratory; theorizing and pacing, trying to rationalize their loss and Natasha watches an eighteen-year-old girl try to bend the very fabric of the universe to find her brother. It’s beautiful sometimes, Natasha thinks, how love is a sort of force. Like gravity.

So, it’s four days later Natasha decides to enter the laboratory too, find out what’s so interesting about-

 “Oh, Natasha?”

Bruce almost collides into her body from looking down at his notes, she raises an eyebrow to him as he looks to her like she’s an alien. She notices a couch in the corner, under a Black Panther suit that hangs on the wall, covered in blankets and a pillow. She doesn’t comment, everyone copes differently she guesses.

 “Hey,” Her raspy voice seems to pull Bruce out of whatever trance he was in, watching as she folds her arms and clears her throat. “Shuri around?”

Bruce shoves his glasses up his nose, nodding and scratching the back of his head. “Uh, yeah yeah. She just went to get some data on particle acceleration.”

Natasha nods, sighing as she walks around him and to the table where the two scientists’ work sits. There’s hundreds of papers, designs, theories, words and equations that jumble around Natasha’s head. She furrows her brows at the sheer amount and realises how hard everyone’s trying, how no one wants to, or seems to be able to, give up.  

Bruce notices her interest, smiling and tapping his pen to the pad in his hands as he walks up next to the desk, pressing the top of it with his palm and lighting up a holographic version of their research. A blue diagram lights up Natasha’s face, falling down the angle of her cheekbones.

 “The kid’s brilliant. It’s as if I’ve only just graduated high-school working with her.” Natasha snorts, Bruce frowning at the sound. “That’s uh, unfortunately not a joke.”

Natasha smirks, rounding the table and not looking from the hologram. “Oh, I know.”

Bruce stands awkwardly, and Natasha feels the questions that want to escape his mouth so heavily that she almost rolls her eyes, feeling them weigh the air.

 “Don’t do that.”  
  
Bruce blinks. “Do what?”

 “That…thing. That weird thing you do where you want to ask me if I’m okay, but don’t know how to.”

Bruce leans against the desk, sighing. “Sorry…I just. I have a lot of questions Nat-”

Natasha’s eyes harden through the hologram, and she plays with the sleeves of Wanda’s shirt as she interrupts his next words. She’s over it, she’s so _over_ it.

 “Here, I’ll make it easy for you. I’m fine, I miss Wanda so fucking much sometimes it hurts, and no, do _not_ ask me how I’ve been for the past two years. I’ve been fine, better than fine. It went back to normal for a bit, felt like things were okay.”

Bruce scratches the back of his head, nodding to Natasha’s words as he swallows once. Natasha folds her arms too, almost as if she was holding her mid-section; like it felt like the words she spoke were making her sick. As if…as if the only person she can be open with is Wanda, anyone else and her body feels like it’ll shut down.

She closes her eyes, sighing, her voice is still hardened though. “Look, just don’t…” Natasha feels tired, she feels _drained,_ she came here for Wanda and now she has to face this?

 “Cool hair.”  
  
Natasha raises an eyebrow to Bruce’s sudden words, his smile sad but understanding, like he gets what she’s trying to say as he diverts the topic. He taps his pen to his open palm, pointing it to her head.

 “Suits you. Wanda must have freaked.”

And things are okay. It feels a little like moving on. Natasha nods, lips upturning slightly at the edges in a ghost of a smile at the thought of the other woman.

 “She likes it, actually. Who knew?”

Bruce nods, folding his arms and nodding, smiling after Natasha’s words. “Yeah, who knew.”

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Wanda almost reaches someone, _almost,_ it’s as if she could feel their beating heart in her ear drums.

She hasn’t been able to see Natasha in days, she tries and she tries to reach her. Her head tilts and she grimaces as she reaches with her powers, sitting cross legged in the meadow she surrounds herself with. Her fingers twitch where they rest flat against her thighs; a red glow under her eyelids making her look asleep, yet so powerful.

Her eyes snap open, frustration seeping into her bones when yet _again_ she can’t pull Natasha to her. Can’t seem to reach outside of where she is. She groans and presses her finger tips to her temple, rubbing softly and sighing.

_Natasha I swear to god can you please-_

That’s when it happens.

A pull, like Wanda broke through _something_. Her eyes widen, her magic making not only her irises red, but her entire eyes fill with her crackling energy. The air she breathes seems to burn with her magic, so powerful it makes the very foundation of her body tremble.

She sees a figure, walking into the meadow, tall, built and almost _lost._ Wanda stands up; her magic ceasing but still sitting idly by just the tips of her fingers. She squints against the rising sun, the silhouette’s arm glints in the sunshine; hitting Wanda’s view.

She opens her mouth in surprise, disbelief, a small smile upturning her lips as she takes a step forward to walk. She wonders; did she do this? Did she bring him back, to here? _Am I that powerful?_  

“Bucky?”

He looks up, he furrows his brows at first to the voice because that’s not his Stevie, it’s not dark blonde hair and a shining smile and it’s not _Steve’s_ sad voice it’s-

 “Wanda?”

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Natasha? Natasha he’s-“

She’s woken up at 2am, Steve at her door with tears in his eyes and at first Natasha doesn’t know what to say; she stands there and _stands_ there with her throat croaking on what she wants to ask. He covers his mouth with his hand, shutting his eyes and tears fall to his jawline. Natasha does the only thing she can think of, laying her hand on his bicep and squeezing once, eyes softening in worry.

 “Hey, Steve? Steve it’s okay, what’s going-“

 “He’s gone. Bucky’s…gone.”

And Natasha’s world crumbles at the edges.

 

 

 -

 

 

 

 

Natasha runs the halls of the tower, heart painfully slamming in her chest. She can’t stop thinking it, she can’t stop thinking that if _Bucky’s_ gone then Wanda’s gone and she can’t lose her again. She can’t fucking lose her again and she _won’t_ she just needs to sleep, she needs to sleep, she needs to sleep. She needs to sleep to _see her again._ To make sure.

She shoulders Bruce’s bedroom door open, throwing the nearest object she can find to his sleeping passed out body.

It happens to be a lamp.

 “I need your strongest sedative. _Now,_ Banner.”

 “Ow! Jesus Christ Nat what the hell-“

 “Bruce, I swear to fucking god don’t test me.” He widens his eyes at how she’s instantly the Black Widow in his moment, scrambling to sit up and pull the sheets to his chest, reaching for his glasses by the bed side table.

 “Nat, why do you need-“

 “Meet me in the infirmary. Ten minutes.”

The door is slammed shut before he can even reply.

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 “You don’t even know if you’ll see her. You’ve always told me it’s by chance, Nat. Sedative induced sleep to somehow get to this other reality could easily harm you or-”

Natasha just pulls up her sleeve, holding her arm out from her position on the couch, an expectant eyebrow raised and a “I’m not taking no for an answer” kind of look she wears so well. So Bruce sighs, flicking the needle in his hand once and shaking his head at the situation he’s in.

Steve stands beside them, arms folded with his gaze flicking between the two. His eyes are slightly red, jaw clenched and Bruce wonders if he’s folding his arms to stop himself shaking. When Natasha came in she said something about Bucky being gone, and Wanda being gone too.

 “Tell me.”

Bruce looks up at Natasha’s voice, furrowing his brows as he positions the needle just above her skin. He notices she’s wearing a necklace he’s never seen her wear before, a silver feather dangling below her collarbone. “Tell you what?”  
  
Natasha clenches and unclenches her fist, readying her arm, breathing out as she wills the tears in her eyes to stay and not fall _._ Wanda is still there. She _has_ to be.

“That you’d do the same for someone you love. That you’d do anything to make sure they’re okay.”

He pushes the needle in, the only hint to Natasha feeling the stinging prick is a small quirk of her eyebrows. She still looks to him for an answer, breathing out as Bruce quickly places a tissue to her skin. He thinks about it for a moment, as Natasha’s eyes grow heavy. And just before she’s unconscious, Steve moving forward to guide her body down to lay on the couch; he stands up, breathing out.

 “Yeah, yeah I would.”

(When Natasha falls, it’s instant, the tugging at her chest again. That feeling of _Wanda._ Bright. Warm. Like Natasha was tasting sunlight.)

 

 

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps. the necklace is wanda's


	8. together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, 4.5K words later and a new chap! thank you again for so much support on this fic, your comments mean the world to me and honestly keep me going!! and im so glad ur loving this fic so far! because im loving writing it, and these two have grown so much on me. anyways i hope you enjoy this long chap! xx 
> 
> ps. no proof reading we die like men

 

 

-

 

 

It takes her, what feels like, _hours_ to find her.

Natasha breathes out as she enters Wanda’s reality, feeling the meadow’s grass underneath her feet. She breathes in, closing her eyes as she settles her twisting stomach. _Calm down Romanoff, she’s fine. She’s going to be fine._

Natasha opens her eyes, heart beat going back to normal as she notices the wooden house, the hammock softly swaying in the wind. She half expects Wanda to be sitting there, laid back, beautiful, _peaceful._ But when she doesn’t find the little witch in her usual spot, Natasha furrows her brow, calling out as she walks towards the house.

 “Wanda?”

She reaches the steps, the wood groaning under her feet as she enters the quiet house. And for once, it doesn’t _feel_ like a home, like a place Natasha feels safe in. She has a feeling it’s because Wanda isn’t here; and a sudden thought rushes through Natasha’s mind as she lets her hand fall on the railing of the interior stairs. Listening to the walls around her settle.

 _A house isn’t a home without her,_ Natasha thinks.

She calls out again, keeping her voice even and hiding the worry creeping up her throat. Wanda should be _here_ by now, she always feels Natasha enter her reality and is by her side in seconds. “Wanda?”

Natasha ascends the stairs, blowing a breath of air out when their room is empty, sheets askew like they left them. “Maximoff, it’d be real great if you could come out now.”

Nothing. Just the breeze against their window, the wind chime outside, their curtains softly moving in the silence. Natasha folds her arms, standing in the empty room and she feels small and lost and it fucking feels so _isolating._ So weird and wrong that Wanda isn’t here. _Jesus, Romanoff, get it together._

She breathes in, clenching her jaw and turning around. She checks the kitchen, the living room, jogs to the back porch and checks the garden and there’s _nothing._ No one. No Wanda.

She closes her eyes and steadies her breathing, like Wanda taught her. Trying and _trying_ to stop what she’s feeling but it’s hard because Wanda makes her feels so much and it’s starting to _hurt_ again and Natasha wants to stop hurting. For once she wants to not feel the pain, not let her remind her of who she loves and how _hard_ she loves her because loving someone? Loving someone so deeply, then for them to disappear, makes the hurt almost double.

Triple.

(Maybe more, because the pain Natasha feels at losing Wanda again feels almost infinite.)

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

There’s a memory, so strong, that sometimes Wanda feels her very chest collapse at the thought of it.

It’s strange, how she’s reminded of it. How the metal of Bucky’s arm, glinting white into her eyes, transports her to a moment in time that feels so close, but so out of her reach. It’s more of a feeling than a memory, a short stab of the emotion that comes over her.

And the moment, the memory, was raw and real and it was then Wanda _knew,_ knew a life with Natasha was everything she wanted, everything she’s wanted since she knew what love was. It’s fleeting, passing through her mind almost instantaneously.

But back then, in the Summer heat and Natasha’s arms and Clint’s farm house; it felt like forever.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

_memory #2_

 

 “Hey my little traitor you.”

Natasha smiles, picking up Nathaniel in her arms and resting him on her hip as she ‘boops’ his nose, making the small child giggle. Wanda smiles to her girlfriend from her position at the kitchen bench, the older woman tossing her read hair over her shoulder from where Nathaniel tries to stick it in his mouth.

The sun reflects of the table top, hitting Wanda’s eyes with a white shine.

It’s become a thing they do now, visiting Clint and Laura’s safe house. It’s like a second home to them both, and the warm sunshine and fresh air make both women feel _normal_ for a moment in time. Like Wanda didn’t hold a deadly power inside of her that thrums just under her skin, or like Natasha couldn’t hurt a fly.

Wanda then chuckles slightly, basking in the moment and freedom they have, watching Natasha frown as Nathaniel once again reaches around with grabby hands and tries to stick her shoulder length red-hair in his mouth.

 “Buddy, hair is a no-no, capiche?”

Wanda can’t help this warm feeling spread throughout her body, watching Natasha like this. It’s a whole new side of her girlfriend she’s never seen before, one so soft and caring and protective. Which isn’t to say she isn’t like that with Wanda, because god, she _is._ But seeing her light up, seeing Natasha’s eyes softening when Lila draws her a picture or Cooper hugs her around the waist just makes her fall impossibly harder for her.

These are Wanda’s favourite moments, the ones that make her realise that a life after the Avengers, a life with Natasha, isn’t as impossible as she once thought. It feels almost reachable, doable, and Wanda likes to think they both deserve this.

 “Again, thank you so much for looking after the kids.”

Laura’s voice brings Wanda out of her daydreaming, feeling the other woman’s hand on her bicep. Wanda shakes her head slightly, smiling and standing up from where she was leaning on the table.

 “Oh, it’s no trouble.” Wanda folds her arms, playing with the ends of her sleeves. “You and Clint deserve a night together.”

Laura smiles, body deflating gratefully as she brings Wanda in for an unexpected hug. The younger woman blinks once, blushing from Natasha’s teasing smirk from over Laura’s shoulder.

Laura pulls back, Wanda feeling how the other woman squeezes to her hands in hers appreciatively and then hikes her purse up her shoulder.

 “You’re the best. I owe you guys.”

Natasha decides in that moment to join them, coming over to stand next to Wanda. Nathaniel looks to Wanda’s soft brown hair and makes grabbing hands again, the younger woman chuckling lightly to the kid in her girlfriend’s arms.

 “This is the least we can do after everything your family have done for us, yeah? Think of it as me paying you back from all the times you’ve let me use this place and come home with Clint sporting a broken rib.”

Laura snorts, rolling her eyes. “More like three broken ribs.”

Natasha shrugs, trying to hold Nathaniel back from his persistent interest in Wanda’s hair. “Either way, we owe _you._ Now get out of here, enjoy your night and fuck Clint’s brains out or whatever.”  
  
Wanda chokes on her spit, sending a disapproving glare to Natasha, her girlfriend looking back innocently.

 “What? He barely understands English babe.”

Laura laughs at them both, kissing Nathaniel on the cheek and taking his little hand in hers and waving it slightly as she speaks to him, smiling softly. “Okay baby, I’ll be home soon, be good, okay?” He blinks back, free hand reaching for Wanda’s soft hair again. Laura rolls her eyes, walking to the door and calling over her shoulder, making Wanda chuckle.

 “Natasha no swearing, listen to Wanda, and don’t eat all the frozen pizza’s again.”

Natasha mock solutes, rolling her eyes. “Yes ma’am.”

The door shuts with a quiet click, and that’s the moment Nathaniel _finally_ gets his hands-on Wanda’s locks. Babbling happily and pulling on the fist of her hair and making her wince in light pain.

 “Ow, _ow._ Nat, Nathaniel has my-“

Natasha looks from the door, to the small child in her arms as she widens her eyes slightly, untangling his fingers with Wanda’s hair. “Oh shoot, sorry. Hey little traitor, none of that. Auntie Nat _and_ Auntie Wanda’s hair is a no go, okay?”

Wanda fixes the spot Nathaniel grabbed, but smiles softly, folding her arms as she repeats Natasha’s words, accent warm and thick.

 “Auntie Wanda?”

Natasha quirks her eyebrow, bouncing the little boy on her hip. “Is that…okay?”

Wanda feels her heart fill, biting her lip and leaning forwards to kiss Natasha softly because yes, _yes_ it’s okay and it makes Wanda feel a part of something. Makes her feel loved and wanted and like Natasha is her family. Her girlfriend pulls softly from the kiss, eyes slowly opening from where they closed, husky voice making Wanda feel like she’s drowning.

 “What was that for?”

Wanda tucks a stray piece of Natasha’s hair behind her ear, saying softly: “For being my family.”

Natasha smiles warmly back, and the soft moment is broken when Nathaniel yanks on a lock of red hair making Natasha grimace and roll her eyes, saying something along the lines of _I’m your fave Auntie and this is how you treat me you traitor?_

Wanda isn’t too sure, everything has faded to the other woman and how she makes her feel.

Like Wanda was a moth, lost in Natasha’s flame.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 “You have really pretty eyes.”

Wanda starts slightly at the young voice, looking down and finding Lila, Clint and Laura’s daughter, staring up at her with an awe-stricken gaze. Wanda smiles lightly, moving the pan she was cooking over the stove high above the little one’s head, placing it on the cutting board that lies on the kitchen table.

 “That’s very kind of you to say, Lila,” Wanda smiles softly, plating the dinner she made and feeling how Lila grabs to the bottom of her jumper, standing on her tippy toes. Wanda, ever surprised at how touching and hands-on children can be, recovers from her slight surprise of the young girl grabbing her.

It’s still hard sometimes, to be okay with touch after…after Sokovia. After the torture and the insanity. To not flinch at the hands of strangers that casually brush past her, who are merely being kind. With Natasha, it’s not the same. With Natasha there is a trust that runs so deep between the two that if anything, Wanda _seeks_ her touch, she doesn’t shy away from it.

But from other people, from others she doesn’t quite _know,_ it’s a slow process. But she feels like she’s getting better when suddenly Lila gets too close to the hot pan that sits on the counter, and Wanda gently places her hand on the small girls shoulder, moving her back down flat on her feet with a caring voice.

 “Be careful, it is very hot.”

Lila pouts, but lights up when she realises what Wanda cooked. “Is that Aunt Nat’s strogan…strogan-“ Lila fumbles over the word, frowning at herself as Wanda laughs lightly, correcting her.

 “Stroganoff?”

Lila widens her eyes, grinning as she bounces on her feet. “Yes! Did she teach you? No one can do it better than Aunt Nat, Mama said so herself.”

 “Did she now?” Wanda replies teasingly, distributing the dinner equally onto the plates. She uses her magic to help quicken the pace, the red tendrils curling around an extra spoon; floating as they pile food onto each plate. Lila looks on in quiet awe, she’ll never be over how amazing her two Aunties are.

 “That is so cool.”

Wanda smiles warmly, fingers twitching as she controls her magic. It’s then she hears Natasha coming down the stairs, Cooper running down and into the kitchen as her girlfriend calls out, catching up.   
  
 “Dude! No running in the house, remember?”

 “Sorry Aunt Nat!”

Wanda, in that moment, it feels like she has an out of body experience. Because Natasha Romanoff is so many other different things than what she shows the rest of the world. And Wanda is so lucky, so lucky she gets to witness the _other_ of that sentence. How Natasha comes up beside her, kissing her cheek, and squeezes softly to her hip in thanks and smiles and it’s all so warm and soft and it feels like a _home._ Like they can have this, one day, sometime in the future.

It feels… _surreal._ Surreal is the word, because one time, years ago, Wanda looked at her future and saw nothing but darkness. She thinks of Pietro, how he would smile at her now. How is eyes would shine like the stars and he would say something like _You are so smitten with her, with Natasha, it’s kind of gross,_ and Wanda would flick him upside the head or throw a hex his way and they would laugh. Bask in the moment of being alive.

It doesn’t make her feel sad anymore, like it used to. Like the earth could swallow her whole. If anything, it fills her with this sense of hope she once thought was ripped from her.

Natasha notices Wanda’s silence suddenly, gathering cutlery to set the table. She taps to the inside of Wanda’s elbow, something she’s done since they met, to ground her. It effectively brings Wanda out of her thoughts, making her blink through the haze and look to Natasha’s worried eyes.

 “You okay sunshine?”

Wanda feels tears at her eyes, but blinks them away. Smiling and nodding, looking to Natasha, to her sun.

 “Yes, I’m okay.”

And for the first time in a long time, Wanda can say she truly means it.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

_now._

 

When Wanda comes out of the memory, she blinks once, twice, notices how the man in front of her is smiling softly, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he still seems lost, scratching the back of his head as he clears his throat.

It’s jarring, the change from a memory so vivid in her mind, partly due to her magic, to then _this._

But his deep voice brings her out of it all, back to the present. Back to the shock and confusion and reality.

 “I don’t…know how I got here, Wanda. Where are-“

But his next words are cut off, Wanda surging forward and bringing him into a fierce hug. Bucky stands still for a moment, because he _feels_ someone, he feels the sun and the breeze and there’s no darkness anymore. He can feel Wanda’s breathing against his chest. His arms at first hang awkwardly in the air, above her shoulders, but he settles into the touch, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Wanda pulls back, eyes shining as she tries to explain “I brought you back, I…I don’t know how but I think I brought you here. From wherever you were.”

Bucky blinks the tears away in his eyes, his chest is labouring and he still feels lost, but Wanda grounds him slightly. Making him speak around his closing throat.

 “Steve…Where’s Steve? I…I was talking to him and then-“

Bucky furrows his brows, trying to remember. “And then I was here. Wanda, where are we? Is Steve okay?”

And just as Wanda’s about to open her mouth, because she can _see_ the confusion and worry in Bucky’s eyes, feel his slight fear through her magic, she feels a pull. Just above her ribcage, in her chest, that feels like-

She breathes out, magic crackling at her finger tips in anticipation; _excitement_. Making her smile and the flowers underneath her feet to bloom. Was it because of the memory? Did she call out to her in those fleeting moments?

 “Natasha.”

Bucky frowns, clearing his throat as he sees the nature around them respond to Wanda. “Uh, what does Natasha have to do with-“

Wanda grabs Bucky’s metal hand, pulling him in the direction of the horizon. He sees a house in the distance, jogging to keep up with Wanda’s pace. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. Steve is okay, Bucky. He’s okay.” She looks back to him, her eyes shining as she squeezes to the hand in hers.

 “Natasha’s here, so maybe Steve is here too. I’m not sure, but I _feel_ her.”

Bucky gets more questions than answers at that; but his heart lifts at the mention of Steve. Is he here? Did Natasha leave too? Disappear? How many people are gone? Where is he, _why_ is he here? Bucky feels like his head is throbbing with the questions, but when they make it to the house and Wanda barrels through the door, dropping Bucky’s hand in her haste; he stands at the back door, the words seeming to leave his mind for a moment in time.

No, Steve _isn’t_ there, but he still smiles softly, watches Wanda call out Natasha’s name, watches how Natasha turns around at the sound and runs to her. How she crashes Wanda in a hug and spins them around, holding so tightly to her body. He watches how the sun catches both of their bodies, bathing them in a yellow light.

Bucky thinks of Steve.

He wants to be bathed in light too.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 “God, don’t ever do that to me again W-.”

Wanda pulls back from the hug, cupping Natasha’s cheeks and kissing her as she smiles against Natasha’s lips. Her fingers thread through her short hair, Wanda breathing Natasha in as the older woman holds her at her hips. They pull back, and Natasha almost punches Wanda in the arm, her heart beating painfully in her chest. 

 “You gave me a fucking heart attack, killer.”

Wanda laughs lightly, chest labouring from when she ran. “Me? Natasha, I haven’t seen you in months.”

Natasha breathes out, relief in her body at feeling the other woman against her. She holds to Wanda like she’ll float away; and she’s getting sick of being scared of Wanda being ripped from her. “This whole system fucking su-“

Natasha, finally, notices the figure standing behind Wanda, leaning on the door jam. Her breath leaves her all at once, Wanda looking back and goes to explain, but realises she doesn’t have the words to.

 “Bucky?”

He smiles, that half smile he does, and nods in Natasha’s direction. “Nat.”

She smiles, trying to cover up just how _glad_ she is to see him. To know he still exists, still breathes and lives. Most of all though, all that comes to her mind is Steve, and she shakes her head, breathing out and folding her arms, feeling Wanda’s hand at the small of her back. 

 “Steve misses you so much.”

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, clearing it and nodding once. “I miss him too.”

A silence settles between them for a beat, and just when Natasha walks forwards, mouth open to talk, Bucky runs a hand through his hair, smiling tight lipped.  “I’ll uh, let you guys catch up. I think I’m gonna explore this place a bit.”

He looks to the sky, smiling, feeling the sun on his skin. Or what he thinks is the sun. He’s not too sure. “I’ve missed this.”

Natasha looks to him worriedly, but still nods, stepping back next to Wanda as he turns to leave; watching his body jog down the house’s front steps.

Wanda’s hand slips into hers, squeezing once, grounding her. And the world on which they stand on seems to shift slightly on its axis.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 “You…You took a _sedative?”_

Wanda’s slightly angered yet worried voice brings Natasha out of her staring contest with the stars. Bucky isn’t back yet, but Wanda assured her he was fine. She feels him somewhere deep in the meadow, his heart thrumming in her ears.

Natasha quirks an eyebrow, feeling Wanda raise up from her position on Natasha’s chest. They’re lying in the garden, letting the stars cover them like a blanket. “Yeah? And?”  
  
Wanda frowns, opening her mouth in shock. Natasha likes that when Wanda’s angry, her accent becomes more pronounced. “Natasha, you don’t know what this could do to you! You could get hurt, or worse, never wake up.”

Natasha sits up, smirking lightly and grabbing Wanda’s hand, playing with her fingers. “Hey, I’m okay, aren’t I?”

Wanda frowns, shaking her head. “Natasha, I’m not joking. Do you realise how much danger you’ve put your life in? How can you be so reckless?”

Red seeps into Wanda’s eyes, protection and worry and _fear_ overcoming her body at Natasha’s fate. She can’t fix this, she can’t wave her hand and fix it like she’s so used to and Wanda is so _angry_ at her, at how Natasha gambles with her life like it meant nothing.

Natasha, noticing her loves magic seeping into her eyes, flickering off her fingers, gently cups her face; her free hand tapping to the inside of her elbow, grounding Wanda. She knows Wanda isn’t trying to be malicious, her words come from a place of love, Natasha knows this. It’s kind of how they’ve worked all these years.

 “Hey, hey. I’m okay, I’ll wake up, I promise.”

Wanda steels her eyes, trying to hold back her magic. “Do you? Natasha, you can’t be stuck here with me.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, fingers now rubbing softly at the spot on her loves arm. “Ouch, feeling the love Maximoff.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, sighing. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

 “Then what did you mean, sunshine?”

 Wanda breathes in, everything she’s thought of flicking past her vision. Of Thanos, of finding him, of confronting him and piecing back the world she broke and she _can’t_ have Natasha here when that happens. She can’t. She _won’t._ The feeling is so urgent inside of her she feels like she’ll burn up from it’s intensity.

Is self-sacrificing a part of her DNA now?

 “We both know, with a one hundred percent certainty, that you’re alive. But do we know that about me, love? _You_ need to get out of here more than I do, you’re alive Natasha.” Wanda smiles sadly, looking down. “I don’t think I am.”  
  
Natasha frowns at the words, eyes hardening.

 “Don’t…don’t do that. Don’t fucking put my life above yours. You’re alive too Wanda, okay? Hey,” Natasha ducks her head, catching Wanda’s eyes. She kisses her then, fiercely, deeply, and pours everything she feels for her into it. Stealing Wanda’s breath from her lungs. She whispers against her lips, breath warm, and Wanda missed how Natasha tastes so _much._

 “Does that feel alive to you?”  
  
 “Natasha-“  
  
 “No. Answer the question. Do you feel alive?”

Wanda closes her eyes, licks her lips, replays the feeling of Natasha holding her and kissing her and touching her and she feels her heart beat in her ears, her lungs constrict and the blood in her veins pump. She breathes out, opening her eyes and getting lost in Natasha’s.

 “Yes.”

Natasha places her hand above Wanda’s chest, pressing softly, reminding her of how her heart beats. She’s looking to Wanda with so much love it feels like the sky is collapsing.

 "We’re finding him, then getting out, and leaving. _Together._ We’ve done everything that way, why stop now sunshine?”

Wanda looks to Natasha’s soft upturn of her lips, her magic thrumming just under her skin; begging to be let out at the other woman’s touch. Wanda breathes softly, surging forward and kissing Natasha, falling back into the grass as both women laugh.

_Together._

Wanda whispers the word against Natasha’s lips, like a prayer, and the ground tilts again. The axis of their reality bending to both women’s breaths.

 

 

-

 


End file.
